Templar meets Gunslinger
by magicalspoonlover
Summary: Without the Inquisitor's aid, Therinfal Redoubt is about to lose its battle with the Red Templars. Ser Delrin Barris, severely wounded, sinks to the floor and closes his eyes as he waits for his end to come, prepared to meet the Maker. When next he opens his eyes, he is no longer in Therinfal Redoubt, let alone Thedas. Still wounded. SLASH. Delrin Barris/Erron Black.
1. Out of Therinfal Redoubt & into the Pan

"Fall back! Fall back!" Barris shouted as the small group of untainted Templars fell into stride with him; the amount of red surrounding them was just shocking and he knew he'd never look at such a horrifying colour the same way again. He braced his shield and kicked down one of the Red Templars that had tried to charge at him, gritting his teeth as he tried not to think about just how many of the bastards there were. Bastards that had once been his brothers and sisters in arms, bastards that had once been his commanding officers, bastards that had once been his _friends_. The grief surged up again and threatened to cause his knees to buckle, but he couldn't give in; as long as others were still alive then he'd keep fighting, keep fighting until everything he had in him was gone. No help was coming.

None untainted believed that any of them would be coming out of this alive.

A suddenly loud scream pierced the air and he flinched at the sound, turning just in time to see Lucina fall to the ground, blood seemingly just cascading out of an open wound on her neck. Even more grief filled his belly; Lucina was a newly promoted Templar, having reached the rank just six months ago. She'd been so proud to have joined the ranks.

With a great cry of rage escaping him, Barris slashed his sword at the nearest Red Templar abomination, gashing its torso open as he spun around to deal the same to another, his shield barely deflecting deadly hits that were raining down on him. "Delrin! Look out!" Machel cried out in warning, but it was too late when Barris heeded it and finally noticed that he was surrounded completely by Red Templar abominations. Sweat dripped down his face and his body wanted to collapse in exhaustion; he knew then, that he was not going to win this battle. Not this one. "Machel, take the others and try to find a vantage point. I'll keep them busy!" He ordered, silently resigning himself to the execution that awaited him. He didn't see any other choice. And he wanted the small group to live a little longer; if he had to buy that time with his own life, then he would.

Machel opened his mouth to protest, but one of the others (Aerli, Barris thought distractedly) grabbed his arm and pulled him away from the rapidly increasing circle of abominations. Barris was granted one last glance at them all before they disappeared behind one of the abandoned doors, losing sight of them as his shield was forced to come up and deflect a blow that would certainly have taken his head off had he not protected himself.

"To the Void with you all!" He roared, anger flashing in his eyes as a brief bout of renewed energy flowed through him; striking out, Barris staggered three of the abominations with a single blow and dodged another, adrenaline pumping through his veins. He struck out again but this time an elbow was slammed into his face and the distraction was enough for the circle to fully close in on him. They all viciously grinned at him and Barris could feel the knot of nausea in his stomach grow even larger, though he had no time to think about it as a sharp-taloned claw suddenly pierced through his armor and into his side.

The pain was instantaneous and he cried out as he dropped to his knees, sinking to the floor in the circle of Red Templar abominations. Clutching at his wound, Barris squeezed his eyes shut as the blood poured over his hands. The cursed abomination had struck him a deadly blow. He was not much longer for this world.

Another claw forcibly snatched his chin and forced his head up towards them, cold metal abruptly resting against his throat. "You should've joined us when you had the chance, Ser Barris!" It hissed, sneering while the others cackled, wicked sounds that made shivers crawl down his spine. Barris choked out a laugh of his own and shook his head as best he could, his breathing becoming more and more harder to do with every second that passed. "I would rather die and go to my Maker than live a life as someone else's thrall," he gasped, and as the metal against his throat began to press down his body finally granted him mercy and darkness fully took over.

Leaving Thedas behind.

* * *

When Barris came to, it was not to the sight of the Maker or family and friends that had perished before him.

Pain tore through his body as he regained consciousness and he groaned loudly, wondering why his wound hadn't been healed since he was supposed to be in the heavens of the Maker. Opening his bleary eyes, he was shocked to find that he seemed to be in a desert of some kind. The air around him was blisteringly hot and he could feel the sand and dirt beneath his body, his armor creating a rather heavy indent.

This was not right. Perhaps this was the Void?

Using his right hand to try to push himself up, the strength in his arm failed and he fell back into the sand, his hasty breath as painful as ever. "Maker save me," Barris grunted under his breath, unable to do little more than turn his head to the side in order to see more of his environment. The heat and the sand was too much for his already weak body, however, and he was losing consciousness almost as fast as he'd regained it. Barris succumbed to it, in order to get away from the pain and confusion. There was no telling how much longer he could actually hold on.

Moments later, a pair of leather boots had paused at Barris' head. The sound of guns being withdrawn from their holsters filled the air, and the tip of one of them pressed into the left temple of the unconscious man. "Should just kill you and put you outta your misery," the gunslinger muttered and he clicked the safety off, dark eyes squinting as he tilted his head to the side, "but I think you've got hell of a story to tell." Guns were slid back into their holsters and without any seemingly apparent effort at all, Erron Black slung Delrin Barris over his shoulder, regardless of the uncomfortable and strange armor that was certainly not going to make either of their journeys comfortable.

Besides, if this man was important or of any value, there was money to be had. And Erron would endure almost anything for a pretty price.


	2. The Inquisition Or Something Else?

When he opened his eyes again, he found himself catching the sight of what seemed to be a ceiling. Slowly blinking to clear the daze away, Barris frowned slightly before moving to sit up, only realizing that he was in a bed of some kind. He glanced down at himself, his frown deepening at the lack of a tunic; instead, the only thing to be seen on his bare torso was bandages, which he presumed was for the wound he'd sustained from the Red Templar abomination. Such a blow would've, should've, rendered him dead for the most part, but here he was alive and in a room he didn't recognize. Perhaps the Inquisition had come to aid the Templars after all. Perhaps they'd arrived in the nick of time and defeated the Red Templars, saving the others and carrying him out while he was still unconscious.

Hope swelled in his chest for the first time since arriving at Therinfal Redoubt. It was a wonderful feeling after so much tragic death and he gripped onto it, determined to believe that the worst was really over, that everything was going to be fine now.

Pulling the blanket that was currently covering him aside, Barris ignored the fact he was clad in nothing but breeches and rose from the bed, eyes set on the single window. He didn't pay attention to the pain starting to throb inside his injury and as he took a step towards the window, agony rushed through him so suddenly that he staggered and collapsed to the floor, groaning. His hands making to clutch the bandages in order to try to appease the pain, his face pressed against the cold of the stone floor. "Maker," he whispered to himself, carefully rolling onto his back with his hands still pressed against the wound. Wherever he was, he knew it wasn't the heavens. He wasn't dead.

The door to the room creaked open, but Barris didn't hear nor see it as he was still in too much pain to fully register the fact someone was entering.

His eyes snapped open, however, when a low voice echoed throughout ordering in a gruff tone, "he's obviously hurt himself by movin' too fast, get him some fresh bandages." With those words, rough hands snagged him under the armpits and hauled him up, causing Barris to suck in a pained breath and bite down on his tongue to stop from making an agonized sound. The hands were careless and indifferent as they dragged him back over to the bed he'd been occupying just moments before, sitting him down on it and pushing his shoulders back so he was resting against the wall. Looking up, Barris was taken aback from what he saw; a mask of sorts hiding the man's nose and mouth, darkly shadowed eyes gazing at him with suspicion and a weirdly shaped hat that sat upon a straw colored head.

But what startled him even more was the odd contraptions at the stranger's hips. He'd never seen anything like them before. His entire outfit was incredibly odd to Barris and he found his brows furrowing with confusion, abruptly feeling vulnerable without his armor.

"Get a good look?" Amusement colored the man's rugged voice and Barris' eyes snapped upwards immediately, a flush forming on his cheeks right after. It was then he realized he'd been staring at a not so subtle area when he was inspecting the contraptions; swallowing hard, this time he kept his gaze focused on the man's face, or what he could see of it anyway. "May I ask who you are, and where I am?" Barris questioned, the burning need for answers making itself known. He also wanted to know what those dang contraptions were, but he figured that could wait; right now, he needed to know who this man was and where they were.

A deep chuckle rumbled from the stranger's chest, his hands fiddling with the contraptions on his hips. "Erron Black. Now who're you?" He completely disregarded Barris' inquiry as to their whereabouts and it made the Templar frown, eyes narrowing a little. There was a feeling forming in the pits of his stomach that not all was what it appeared to be, but he forced that feeling down, desperate to cling to that small flame of hope which was beginning to flicker. "My name is Ser Delrin Barris, of the Templars," despite all that had happened in Therinfal Redoubt, Barris still held his head high with an expression of pride. He wasn't the best Templar he could be, but he also wasn't the worst.

The man who called himself Erron Black tilted his head to the side, his gaze growing even more suspicious. "Ain't no such thing as Templars, try again," his voice was still casual but underneath the seemingly friendliness was a dark tone which caused shivers to run down Barris' spine.

"What reason would I have to lie?" He pointed out, wondering whether this Erron hadn't been hit on the head lately. Or just knew nothing of Thedas' problems, because Templars were _everywhere_. The good, the bad and the ugly. "I am wounded and at your mercy. I hardly think that lying would do me any good right now." Logic always had been Barris' best trait, at least according to his superior officers and fellow Templars. Personally, he never once thought that about himself.

Then something else occurred to him. "What do you mean, no such thing as Templars?"

Erron's eyebrows raised; Barris was thankful he could see that much of the man's face, at least. It made deciphering things a little easier.

"Where do you think you are?" Erron drawled, removing the hat from his head. He tossed it onto one of the nearby chairs without looking and crossed his arms, still regarding the other male with suspicion, though it seemed like it was beginning to clear.

But that was a good question, wasn't it? Where _did _he think he was? Barris had been certain he was at the Inquisition's stronghold, but Erron's entirely suspicious stance was forcing him to rethink otherwise. No one of the Inquisition would treat him this way, surely. A slow sigh escaped him and he lowered his gaze, careful not to move in case he jarred his injury again. "I'm not sure anymore," he admitted, biting down on his lower lip for a moment, "I thought I was, perhaps, still in Ferelden."

If possible, Erron's eyebrows rose even further; without a word to Barris, he turned and abruptly left the room.

"...Was it something I said?"

No answer was given even as a young lady, garbed in equally odd attire, entered the room with an armful of clean bandages. She was a pretty thing, with one half of her black hair shaved on the left side, her eyes the colour of a calm cerulean blue and her skin a light tannish hue. However, it seemed that she was intent on ignoring Barris even though her small hands reached for his bloodied bandages, not even asking for permission to change them. He would have been more bothered by the woman's silence, but his own thoughts occupied him, thoughts in regard to Erron Black and the fact Templars apparently didn't exist. This practically screamed the idea that he wasn't with the Inquisition.

Barris wasn't sure if the strange man was just having him on, or if he actually spoke truth. If the latter, then he didn't understand at all, he was so confused. Where in the Maker's name was he in Thedas that Templars weren't heard of?


End file.
